


Shock and Awe

by PaBakura



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Allied Powers, Alternate Universe, Central Powers, Gen, M/M, Violence, World War 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 05:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11479161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaBakura/pseuds/PaBakura
Summary: [Being the historian that I am, I couldn't resist taking a shot at making Thiefshipping in some point in History. This will be a series, as I make my way through my favorite battles and moments. Don't expect too many happy tales... The most interesting parts of history for me are the darkest.]Shells, bombs, gas, machine gun fire.... twisted broken ground, barbed wire, craters.... The Great War was a brutal conflict, and this wasn't any less true for either side.[Staying true to history, this work may have darker moments or language seen as wrong. I am neutral to both sides here, and will not polish the British or Germans. Both had issues Both were unfair and unkind. Allies or Central powers. This story is for entertainment, not a lecture or lesson.]Bakura is on the side of the German Empire, a veteran of several battles, while Marik stands as a young recruit for the British Empire. I hope you'll enjoy their journey in No Man's Land...





	Shock and Awe

The sound of artillery and machine gun fire crackled across No Man’s Land as the soldiers on both sides prepared their assaults. Men and boys loaded up their weapons and tugged on their helmets as they waited for the commander’s call.

On one side sat the Germans, donning their spiked helmets [Pickelhaubes] and Gewehr 98 rifles. One man stood out, his white hair drawing attention from most. But those who fought alongside Bakura gave him no insult, no anger. They knew what he was…. How capable he was. He was 22, and a veteran of four previous battles. The scars under his eye, on his arms and chest were enough to prove this. He smirked as he threw a gas mask filter in his bag and made his way outside.

On the other sat a very frightened Egyptian teenager. He had been captured by the British army on his first time out of the tomb in his homeland. After years of abuse and training, Marik was ready to fight if commanded, but terrified of dying. He grabbed a mask as well and his Lee Enfield, loading it up and placing his bayonet shakily on the end. He took his spot on the line and readied for the whistle.  
As Bakura readied his weapon, the call came. “Achtung! Schnell! Schnell!” The commander’s voice echoed over the battlefield, and tens of thousands of men began their charge. The white haired male wasn’t stupid. He hadn’t lived this long by taking point. He stayed in the back, looking for an empty shell crater to avoid the gunfire. After the first line ahead of him was cut down, he dove into a muddy crater, sinking in a bit as he noticed the corpses around him. The smell made the young male sick, throwing his mask on without a filter. 

Watching from the cover of the crater, Bakura could see hundreds of his fellow soldiers being torn to shreds by the enemy. He stuck his rifle over the top and took a pop shot out before fire came down on his area.

The shot flew across the battlefield and struck the soldier standing next to Marik, spraying him with blood. The Egyptian boy freaked out as he watched the other soldier squirm and gasp as blood poured from his throat. As he was getting ready to heave, the whistle came, and the charge had begun. The tan boy jumped over the trench wall and made his run. Immediately, the man in front of him was hit by the explosion of a small artillery shell, ripping most of the flesh from his face and chest off. The boy squeaked a bit and kept running, his boot sloshing thorough blood and dirt and debris. He approached Bakura’s crater and went to move around it as another shell hit, sending him flying into it.

He landed hard, breaking his arm instantly, and laid broken next to the German. He screamed in pain and a bit of fear as he felt his arm pulse, and this caught the attention of the gas mask wearing German.

“What? A Brit? I’ll kill y-“ He readied his trench knife and brought it to Marik’s throat, before he took the mask off to see the man he was about to kill.

But it wasn’t a man…. It was only a boy.

The older male dropped his blade and watched as small tears streaked over the muddied tan face. He threw his mask back in its bag and held the boy’s head gently. “How old are you…….?”

“17…. S-soon to be 18…. M-my birthday’s t-tomorrow….”

“You’re a boy….. The British are using boys to fight a man’s war? What the fuck is wrong with them? You’re not even 18….. Oh god, I’m sorry….. What’s your name?”

“M-Marik…. Marik Ishtar….. 4th Cairo regiment….. B-British Empire, sir…. P-please don’t kill me….” He was still in shock from the shell, his body coping with his wounds rather his sanity.

Bakura’s hands wrapped around his face and held it. “Shh….. Look at me, you’re going to be alright….. Stay focused on me….. I’m not your enemy, son….. I could never kill a boy….. I just can’t….” He let go of him and wrapped his arms around him, minding the twisted arm. “You’re going to be okay, look at me….. I got you….”

Marik was hesitant at first, not sure if he should trust the other. “I…. alright…. P-please don’t let go….. I didn’t even want to fight….. The English took me from my home….. Killed my father, m-my brother, and….. d-did things to my s-sister…. They said if I didn’t fight they would kill her…” He whined a bit and held onto Bakura with his good arm, burying his dirty face in the other’s uniform. “Please, stay with me…..”

“Marik…. I’m not going anywhere….. I’m Bakura…. I’ll protect you and get you out of this crater…. My friends back in the trench are medics…. We’ll fix you up, I promise….” He lightly stroked the boy’s head, knocking the gunpowder residue out of it. 

As they sat there, a loud siren came over the field, and artillery rocked the two sides. 

“Oh shit…. Ishtar, put your mask on…. Gas!” Bakura yelled to him as he threw his own mask on, locking the filter in place. He took the other’s out of his bag and helped him get it on, clicking the filter in as the first few shells hit. Mustard gas began to pour over the field, and screams of agony echoed from both sides.

“Just breathe, son….. Stay focused on me….. Your filter will get you through this, I promise….” He smiled under his mask and kept Marik pressed tightly against his body, shielding him from the stinging air. He took long breaths, trying to keep his new comrade safe and calm, petting him more as he held him. “Don’t worry, Egyptian, you’ll see your sister again, soon enough….. I’ll make it my mission to get you home safe….”

Marik held onto Bakura like his life depended on it, clawing into his uniform as the shells whistled and popped, breathing softly in his mask. “Bakura…. When will it be over? They never trained us for gas attacks…. Said us ‘sand rats were only good for bullet sponges….”

“Marik…. It’ll be over soon…. Those motherfuckers….. You’re not a bullet sponge, you’re a human!” He growled and laid his helmet against Marik’s. “Just focus on me, not the gas, we will get through this…. It’s not my first attack…. Your filter will last 8 hours, mine 9….. I have one spare….” He shook a bit himself, remembering the first attack he had seen. The screams, the blood, the pain in his throat from each breath when his mask had failed. It haunted the white haired male to this day, and caused him to shake in stress on top of the other.

“B-Bakura, are you alright? You’re shaking like a leaf…. Is it the gas? Are you hurt?” Marik put his hands on the other’s mask and held him close.

“S-sorry, PTSD…. From my first attack….. I can’t get the images of everyone dying around me out of my head….. Coughing up bits of lung….. Crying for their families…. I cried for mine when I thought it w-was over….. Oh god did I cry…..” He shook a bit more and held Marik down as more shells fell.

Hours passed, and the couple sat still in their shelter. Bakura had never gotten off of Marik, and he rolled over gently to spy on the trenches. “Marik….. We can move, now…. We’re going back to my trench…. If you’re with me, you’ll be fine…. Come on.” He tugged him up a bit and slung him over his shoulder. With the crater now behind him by a few feet, Bakura ran through the torn up barbed wire and puddles, waving and shouting to his side as he approached the trench.

His allies recognized him, and let off the machine guns, rushing out to help him and his injured friend. 

“He needs a doctor, ASAP…. Make sure they don’t hurt him…. He’s only a boy, Wilhelm… he’s not our enemy, I promise you. I spent 7 hours in a crater with this boy…. We need to help him.” He looked at Marik and pulled off his mask, wiping his face clean with his sleeve. “It’s going to be alright, my friend….. I promise, you will live and prosper…. Stay with us, and you’ll see the end of all of this.” Before the medics took him away, Bakura leaned in and kissed him on the forehead, nuzzling him softly to secure him, and let him know he was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Gewehr 98- Standard Issue German Bolt Action Rifle, 8mm caliber.  
> Pickelhaube- Standard issue German helmet with the famous spike on top.


End file.
